"All I know is," I said quietly, "what I've heard. She was out doing errands Saturday morning. One week ago today. On Monday she didn't show up for school and didn't call in. They got a substitute." I coaxed the van into second and turned onto Homestead Drive before going on. Apparently one of the teachers came over at lunchtime to check on her and to bring some papers that needed correcting. The door was open. Laura was in the bathtub. Dead. Razor in her hand and dried blood all over, I guess. No note, but no sign of a fight or anything. There was an autopsy." I cleared my throat. "I think that's routine. Anyway, the guy said suicide." I paused. "Except that it just seems so sad. Premature."

I glanced at Arch. He was intent on the view out the window. The van released another cloud of dust as we turned onto Piney Circle, a dirt road where wood- paneled houses peeked out from behind stands of ponderosa and lodgepole pine.

"So did you know her?" Patty Sue asked.

Alicia's question. Why did people inquire so suspiciously about your prior acquaintance with a suicide victim? Were they trying to ascertain guilt? If you had known her better, she wouldn't have done this? If you hadn't known her at all, you were off the hook?

"She was Arch's teacher last year and two years ago. I saw her at conferences," I replied. "Sometimes I saw her in exercise class. That's it." I thought for a minute. "She was funny. She could make you laugh talking about how she was going to be a taxing person for the IRS, things like that. And she was a special person for Arch."

I looked again in the mirror. My son was holding his hands over his eyes. I pulled over onto the graveled shoulder and turned to face him.

"Arch," I said. "You don't have to do this. Listen, we can manage with just Patty Sue and myself serving. You don't even have to come at all."

Patty Sue and I sat as Arch sobbed quietly. I handed him a tissue. I shouldn't have talked about Laura Smiley, after all. Arch blew his nose and coughed as people do when they want it to look as if the real problem is sinus congestion, not heartache.

"It's okay," he said. He cleared his throat. "Let's go. Please."

I said, "You really don't have to."

"Yeah," he said, "I do."